


Some People Never Learn

by quartetship



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 10:00:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2769068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartetship/pseuds/quartetship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>["But some things never change, and some people never learn."]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some People Never Learn

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so... this one shot is kind of experimental for me. I don't usually share _angsty_ stuff, but the twitter squad urged me to do so, so I'm giving this a try. Feel free to share your thoughts with me.
> 
> Some notes: This piece is set in the hills of Appalachia (specifically the West Virgina mountains) and ranges from about 1965-1975. It's narrated by Connie Springer, and is written to resemble the ways people in that time/place spoke. (I would know; this is set where I'm from.) I hope the style doesn't throw anyone off. 
> 
> Also, **WARNINGS** for mentions of (period/setting based) **racism** , **homophobia** & **sexism**. Warnings also include **death** and allusions to **suicide**.
> 
> Thanks to anyone who reads, and if you don't care for it, that's okay! I promise not to make angsty stuff a habit!
> 
> \--

People 'round here are always lookin' to hear somethin' sad. For whatever reason - makes 'em think, makes 'em cry - makes 'em feel better about their own shitty life stuck in these hills. Reckon that's why you're here, ain't it? Everyone in these parts knows me as the storyteller. I just  _see_  shit, ya know? And of all the shit I've seen, I got one story to beat all the rest - a story's been makin' people blue around here for years, and it just keeps goin'. Story 'bout two guys I knew. Marco and Jean.   
  
Jean was a city boy, up to visit for the summer from someplace out west. Cut his hair real strange and wore fancy-ass clothes, and even said his own  _name_  funny. It was pretty damn funny watchin' him try to get used to mountain life; we were like some kinda zoo attraction to him, I think, but we felt the same way about him. Spent most of our time pullin' shit over on him. Except for Marco. That boy was lovesick from the minute Jean stepped off the train.   
  
Not to say Jean was any better. He  _mooned_  over Marco, told him stories of how things were different in the city, better for people like  _them_. Here ya have to sneak off to do the kinda things they did - kissin' and holdin' hands and probably a lotta  _other_  shit the rest of us didn't wanna know about. But Jean made a hill of promises higher than any of the mountains around here, sayin' he'd buy Marco a ticket to leave with him when he went, that they'd live together in the city and get good jobs and all that. And Marco ate up every word.   
  
Marco's family wasn't too keen on Jean. Maybe it was because he wasn't from around here. Coulda been because of the fact that they didn't like their son makin' up with another man. But I think it was just the fact that Jean was tryna steal Marco, take him outta the hills and away from the rest of 'em, and they didn't like that too well.  
  
You could tell by the way they acted when Marco would disappear to go on walks with Jean. They'd watch him to the end of the road, knowing he was heading to the woods, or the bridge over the lake where kids always went to make out. That was where you could find those two most days once Marco's chores were done, and that's where his sister Ymir usually showed up to make a scene and drag him home. Jean shoulda known when to turn tail a run - namely, right after he met Ymir the first time - but I guess bein' in love makes it hard to think. Neither of those two did a whole lot of  _that_  that summer.   
  
August came and Jean stepped up talkin' future plans with Marco, and the rest of us just kinda assumed we'd seen the last of Bodt, figurin' he'd bolt for the city at the end of the month. But Marco's mama and daddy didn't want him runnin' off, and 'round here, as long as you're livin' with your folks, they pretty much run the show. I would know - I had to wait years just to  _talk_  to my girl Sasha, all on account'a me bein' half black and her daddy bein' a racist son of a bitch. I guess it was the same with Marco's folks. Those last few days, they wouldn't even let him  _see_  Jean, kept him busy or locked up day and night while they waited for Jean to leave town. He was gonna have to eventually.   
  
The last train goin' his way for the summer was leavin' at sunrise that last morning of August, and he wrote Marco a letter tellin' him exactly what time. He told me he was gonna convince Marco to run away with him, to take him back to the city whether his folks liked it or not. Not like that would've taken any actual  _convincing_  - poor boy was so damn lovestruck he probably would've walked across the states to be where Jean was. But Jean made the wrong decision. He didn't give the letter to me or one of the other boys to deliver; he gave it to Marco's sister.  
  
Ymir  _knew_  what the hell she was doin'. City boy shoulda  _never_  trusted her to pass that note along, but this story's full of mistakes. By the time Marco found out Jean was leavin' town, he'd already given up waitin' on a letter Ymir never delivered. Instead, she told Marco she'd spoken to Jean, but that he'd up and left that morning. Marco asked her if Jean had said anything about the two of 'em - anything about lovin' Marco - but Ymir didn't answer.   
  
It couldn't have been any better for Jean; for all he knew, Marco got his letter and just never showed up. He left outta here thinkin' Marco didn't wanna see him, and Marco woke up the next day believin' that Jean never loved him in the first place. Most of the rest of us that knew both of 'em knew better, but Marco always did put too much stock in what Ymir had to say, or in this case, what she didn't bother sayin'.   
  
Jean went back to a life the rest of us don't often see, the big buildings of the world beyond these hills. Ymir always liked makin' a point of how he never looked back, but why would he? All he had tyin' him to the holler was Marco - things back home where he was from had to have been a hell of a lot better than they are here. Let him believe what he had with Marco was just a farm boy's fling, and Jean had no reason to come back. That didn't stop Marco from lookin' for him, though.   
  
Three years, he waited. Always lookin' just over the hill, at the spot where the trains came and went - always smilin' like he knew Jean was comin' back for him any day. Eventually that light went out, though. And Miss Mina was a prize catch of a wife, even if Marco looked more broken on his wedding day than most people look at a funeral. He smiled for the pictures though, and he smiled when he told people Mina was expectin' that spring. He still kept an eye on the horizon, though - even with that baby in his arms.   
  
The years came and they went, and Mina gave Marco a whole house full of beautiful babies. Pretty little girls, big healthy boys - a son named Jean last of all. But nothing she could give him could blow out the candle he was still holding for a man that wasn't ever comin' back - a man that thought there'd be nothin' to come back to. She tried, but it wasn't enough; she and the kids weren't enough, and they were never gonna be.   
  
Marco was known for starin' out his back window for hours, for takin' walks, all alone, to the places where he and Jean used to go. The middle of winter was never hospitable weather in these parts, but last year was the worst I've ever seen. And it was the last winter Marco ever saw. I guess he got tired of walkin' over that bridge by himself, starin' into that water like someone else might look back at him. He didn't bother leavin' Mina a note before he took his last walk, but it's probably just as well. She knew as well as anybody what it woulda said.   
  
Last week I was in town, up at the store fetchin' a few things for the farm before the warm weather sets in, and I'll be damned if I didn't bump into a face I thought I'd never see around here again - and lemme tell you, ol' City Boy Jean don't age too graceful.  
  
He looked like he hadn't slept a day since he left ten years ago, and like he'd only eaten about half his meals since then. He shook my hand like no time had passed though, and for a minute I felt the years slip away. But then he asked the question - wonderin' about Marco - and I knew I had to tell him, 'cause nobody else 'round here was gonna. Ten years of lies was more'n enough. And I ain't never seen the light leave a man's face so fast.   
  
I'm guessin' he probably hopped another train that same evening. Ain't much for him here - even less nowadays. But part of me hopes he learned somethin' before he left this time. I hope he heard people talk, heard the things they said about the sad case of Marco Bodt. I hope he found out that the boy he left behind grew into a man that could never leave him behind. And I hope maybe he slept a little better knowin' Marco died lovin' him, though I'm not real sure if it'd be much help at this point.   
  
Now the news is kickin' up again today. Heard people buzzin' at the post this mornin' about some gossip from up town. Said there's been another body found down under the bridge. My guess is some teenager, assin' around and got themselves killed. Don't know who else would be fool enough to mess around down there, after what happened with Marco a few months ago.   
  
But some things never change, and some people never learn...


End file.
